


The Quiet of Dead Air on the Radio

by Zodiac



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos can only listen on in horror~, Desert Bluffs Carlos is Diego to be specific, Drabble, Gen, Gore, Lobotomy, Torture, Via drill and on-air
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil wasn't pleased in the slightest with his new management and he decided it would be a good idea to voice that opinion. Diego, Carlos' Desert Bluffs counterpart, makes him well-aware of how bad of an idea that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet of Dead Air on the Radio

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to write a quick mini drabble today based on [this](http://nazi-nurse.tumblr.com/post/67013533287/after-seen-your-art-i-got-this-idea-of-diego-doing-a) since I happened to get inspired by it and this is what came of it.

There was no cheery ‘Good evening, Listeners’ following some bizarre ‘fact’ about life that Carlos never could manage to wrap his head around, no rich voice permeating through the airwaves to all of the sleepy citizens of Night Vale in an effort to lull them into some semblance of sleep.

No, in its place was a voice alien, yet familiar in a distinctly wrong way, to all of the city, smoothly broadcasting its sinister intent through every radio that had tuned into Night Vale Community Radio that evening, including the one in Carlos’ lab.

"Good day, Night Vale. Now, I am sure you all must be wondering where your normal host is at the moment. Well, I am loathe to report that he had a bit of a… behavioral problem when it came to accepting us as the new management, but don’t any of you fret. He _will_ be fixed, and you all will have the distinct _pleasure_ of listening in on his re-education. Isn’t that wonderful?~”

A growled out “Bastard!” was then heard, strained and muffled from its distance from the mic, but still able to be identified by frequent listeners of the show.

"Now, now, Cecil," The other voice cooed malevolently, decreasing in volume as it pulled away from the microphone as well, "we can’t have you cursing on air. It just does not suit the tone that we at Strexcorp want and you really should know that at this point, but I suppose even the best of dogs require some amount of training to begin with. Speaking of, we should probably get right to that so that our listeners don’t get bored. Well then, shall we?~"

A few more curses were the immediate response, as well as the clear sound of struggling, sounds that were cut off after the resounding sound of a hard slap was picked up. Rather than chastise him any further, the voice instead dropped any amount of rage that had been in it and instead replaced it with a cold, calculating tone, one that might be used in scientific settings.

"This is Diego and today I will be performing a lobotomy on subject Cecil Gershwin Palmer in hopes of quelling any rebellious thoughts about Strexcorp that he has shown previously. This is also being broadcasted live over the town of Night Vale and, as such, I will be using rather… outdated techniques to ensure that the sounds of it are properly picked up on the microphone. Now, we shall begin the procedure."

At this point, throughout the city, the meek have turned off their radios, the parents have sent their children to bed early, assuring them that everything was going to be fine through their questions about whether the nice man on the radio was going to be alright, and the Sheriff’s Secret Policemen scattered about have set down their monitoring equipment, all tuned into what used to be Cecil’s show and all helpless to stop what was about to occur.

But, in the laboratory filled with breakers and humming electrical instruments by Big Rico’s pizza, despite his team telling him to turn off the radio, Carlos listened on, equally as powerless to stop what was about to transpire as every other citizen of Night Vale.

He listened on, practically spellbound by the radio, as the drill on the other end came to life with a hellish dentist drill’s whirr. He listened to the machine rattle in protest as it came into contact with unyielding skull before the bone shattered beneath its assault. He listened to the far too faint squishing noises as this wicked scientist probed about in his brain, scrambling his patient from the inside-out.

And, he listened past Diego’s meticulous description of his observations, to the constant stream of words from _his_ Cecil, hearing the barking rebellion turn to muted whimpers, pleading cries, and finally and most worrisome of all, dead air on the radio.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and wanted to screech at me in a manner similar to socializing, then you can find my Tumblr right [here](http://catsandcomposers.tumblr.com/).


End file.
